Remembering the Lost
by mylovemiroku
Summary: A story about the long lost friends who come to find themselves in each other. Can things be as they were, or is there some power forcing them to be apart? InuKag's son & MirSan's daughter. Full summary on my page.


**Remembering the Lost**

_The village of priests_

For as long as she had known, she had lived in the village of priests.

Until the day that _he_ had come; her childhood friend, from another time. She didn't recognize him then, but he knew her instantly. The long and silky blue tresses gave her away to most people, but to him, it was those penetrating eyes that you could get lost in like an ongoing storm.

She was so innocent to the violent world around her, he needed to be her protector. Little did he know about the untamed rage she had deep within her very being.

Years of being trained in the arts of spirituality had suppressed her unknown ability to slay demons. She was _her_ daughter after all. Even the posture she held signified it, although most people thought it was her immense power that held her thus. Her loose purple kimono only accented her small arms and body underneath.

It was still hard for him to believe that they had sent her away like that. He knew it was hard for all of them, but they didn't know how much it had affected him. Sure, they were only four years old then, but she was the only person he ever _really_ cared for.

"Arashi…" he barely whispered. It could have been mistaken for the wind that had blown past their faces.

"Who are you, young stranger?" she asked in a small tone, which held prominence among the villagers.

"It is I, Nagoyaka. I come from the village of the timeless well, in the forest of Inuyasha."

"Welcome to the village of priests and priestesses, Nagoyaka-sama. We would be honored to have you stay with us and rest your soul here, in this spiritual place, for as long as you like," she bowed to him.

"Thank you," he bowed back in respect. "But it is you that I came here to see, Arashi-san."

"Of course," she answered, her eyes shut loosely as the wind still blew her hair around. She stood straight and tall as a tree, only her head slightly angled, to signify respect and modesty. She was just as he had remembered, but a lid of control was now on her once free spirit.

"Please follow me," she requested, but it was more of an order. Her words were as eloquent as her father's. It amazed him how similar she was to them, although she only lived but four years of her life with them.

He followed her to a small hut in the middle of the village, where a man who looked much like the Buddha, even in the way he was meditating, sat.

"Kiyoshi-sensei, this is Nagoyaka-sama, who requires my services. Please bestow your blessing on me to complete his wishes," she bowed to her teacher.

The man cracked open his right eye for a moment, in which he studied Nagoyaka. He took this opportunity to also bow, until the wise man closed his eye and patted Arashi's head. When she looked up at him, he slightly nodded his head and she led Nagoyaka back outside in the wind.

"Nagoyaka-sama, excuse me for being so forward, but I can't help but feel a sense of familiarity toward you," she told him, her head still slightly bent.

"Don't you find it odd that I knew your name and I didn't ask who you were first?" he asked, slightly annoyed with her over-politeness. I mean, he was when he needed to be, but this was a little much.

"I assumed you had heard of me elsewhere. Many people come through this village searching for my skills to help them," she responded, not slightly moved by his brash statement.

"Well, you're right. We did know each other, years ago. We played together in the village I'm from."

"Excuse me for my questioning, Nagoyaka-sama, but how can that be possible? I have not stepped a foot out of this village since I was born," she reminded.

"That's where you're wrong. You were born in my village, around the same time as me, but months afterward. Our parents are good friends, but you were sent away when you were four years old. Don't you remember me?" he asked, slightly pleading her to remember something.

She finally showed emotion with her slightly shocked face at telling her this new information.

"You must have me mistaken for someone else," she concluded, her face going back to its emotionless stare into space.

In reality, she was focusing on his red kimono and the sword and sheath that hung at his side. His long black hair swayed in the wind as hers did. Part of her was trying to convince herself that this boy was misinformed, while the other part desperately wanted to look into his dark gray eyes to find answers to the many questions she had always had about her parents.

"I've searched for too long to be mistaken. Your scent, although it has aged since I last saw you, hasn't changed. You're still little Arashi-chan somewhere in there," he smiled.

He held her slender shoulders for support as he bent on one knee to look into her downcast eyes. Only then did she give in to looking at him straight in the eye. A slight blush crossed her pale face for the first time in a long time. A warm feeling was starting to settle in her stomach and it inched up her throat to the extent that her mouth was becoming dry.

He was a handsome boy, this Nagoyaka. Almost as much as his uncle was beautiful, with his dark, jet-black hair that whipped in the wind. Although he was blunt in his words, his actions were smooth and concentrated, giving him a gentler demeanor than his father.

No boy had ever touched her so, giving her a surprised look as she stiffened under his touch.

"I should get started on the task you wish me to complete," Arashi backed away and returned her head downcast, so her eyes were covered by her bangs.

Nagoyaka sighed, and settled for sitting at the base of a tree near the outskirts of the village. Arashi followed and knelt before him, her legs neatly folded underneath her as her back sat tall.

"I need you to come back with me to my village. There is… great calamity happening there and we are in need of your help, specifically you," he explained.

"Of course. I'll do all in my power to help you, Nagoyaka-sama," Arashi bowed.

"You'll just come? I mean, I haven't even told you what's wrong yet," he confronted.

"It is not my place to question your intentions, but my duty to help in any way possible," Arashi continued.

"Huh, what else do they teach you hear in this village? Besides to be a saint," he muttered.

"Well, since you ask…" she started. "I'm quite well trained in the art of sword fighting."

Arashi stood on one leg and then the other, as calm as a geisha would move from her sitting position and stood in a fighter's stance. She unsheathed her sword at her side and held it gently. With one leg swinging around slowly, she moved the sword in swift movements, but still gracefully, to demonstrate her control of the weapon.

"Kiyoshi-sensei says that I was born with it, although I find that hard to believe," Arashi contemplated. "I do have a bit of passion for it though. You're good with the sword too, I assume… or do you just carry it with you?"

"Well, my father is in the process of training me, but I'm not nearly as good as him," Nagoyaka sighed. "I'm much better at archery."

"Another fine art," Arashi praised.

"And like you, I seem to have been born with it. My mother is the one who taught me. Sometimes I think my father is ashamed of it, because I am so much like her," he sighed.

"Your father is ashamed of your mother?" she asked.

"No, no! He is definitely in love with her, but that is because she is a woman. Her gentleness suits her feminine qualities. I feel he is ashamed that his _only_ son isn't manly enough to be called a son," he divulged.

For some reason, it was so easy to talk to Arashi. Her calming presence made him feel at ease. He feared that once he found her, if ever he did, that they would have grown too far apart to even be called acquaintances. Fortunately, the only time that seemed to pass between them was their knowledge and appearance. The chaste friendship they once shared was now beginning to blossom again, after what seemed to be a timeless winter.

"Have you told your father how you feel about this?"

"No… he doesn't really speak much. But, what of you? You haven't ever wondered about your parents?" he redirected the conversation back to her. Why was he here telling his life story? It was she that was the mystery.

"I have… but I only would think of them when I had time alone to myself, which isn't very often," she hesitated.

"Oh…" he sighed, "Well, you will be seeing them soon enough. Let's get started."


End file.
